Orange & Pink
by paper pixel
Summary: Relationships are hard. Especially for a princess and a vampire. More so for a flame entity and a human. PB/Marcie and FP/Finn. Probably.
1. Orange 1

**Orange & Pink**

**ORANGE**

Flame. A red and orange heat weakly flickering within the oil lamp.  
The sunrise is cold. Flame offers comfort.  
Funny, Finn thinks.  
The exact opposite of Flame Princess.

Snoring gently, tossing and turning, Jake sleeps.  
Finn sits up from his sleeplessness  
and the window greets him with a fantastic view.  
Orange tinted sky outstretched towards horizon.

A pleasant break from a heating affair.  
Between the princess' taciturn nature and the struggle just to touch her –  
he sighs. No, he can never blame her. He loves her _that_ much.  
Even if she's cold as ice, yet hot as a molten lava.

There's something strange about the orange beyond the horizon.  
Finn moves his head outside the window and squints. Yes, something strange.  
A sweat drops from his forehead. He moves his head inside.  
Suddenly, _heat_.

Intense heat. He breathes in the hot air – familiar.  
The orange is fast approaching. He struggles.  
Finn drops on the floor kneeling. He closes his eyes as he feels it coming.  
Coming towards him, that intense, damnable heat.

And then nothing. The scalding air leaves.  
Finn wobbly stands. Beyond the horizon, the sun is peeking.  
There is still heat and he turns around.  
Frowning, arms crossed and stunning – Flame Princess.

* * *

I do apologize for the writing structure of this piece. Constructive criticisms and general reviews are welcome.


	2. Orange 2

"You left," She says. "Even before the party started."  
"It was hot," He points out.  
She looks away. "You're a jerk."  
He smiles. "I'd been cooked meat a minute longer."

Between the two of them,  
the urge to touch one another heightens.  
This is an impossible urge. One that hurts both of them.  
Physically for Finn. Mentally for Flame Princess.

"It's not fair," She whispers, looking right at him. "I can't even _hug_ you."  
"We can," He replies.  
"No. We can't. Not without turning you into a sore mess."  
"I've handled worse." he shrugs. "Besides, I love you."

The Flame Princess frowns deeper. "I love you, too."  
"You say that like it's a bad thing." Finn jokes.  
"Shut up. I'm trying to minimize my flame here."  
"By being angry? Isn't that counter-intuitive?"

"Sh!" She scolds. "Controlling is difficult. Difficult things make me angry."  
"Hot-headed, aren't we?"  
"Just Sh!"  
Finn sees the fire slowly die down. Like a stove running out of gas.

It's how Flame Princess smiles that tells Finn something is wrong.  
"Don't worry, Finn. It only feels like I'm tired and weak."  
She doesn't tell him how much it feels like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.  
How much this is dragging her down.

His eyes betray a look of worry. "Jeez, FP. Are you sure you're fine?"  
She nods slowly. The heat absent from her body. She is turning white.  
Finn jumps in front of her and wraps his arms around her shoulders.  
"Are you crazy? You shouldn't do this. Set yourself on fire now – "

A kiss. That gentle, foreign, cold kiss that plants itself upon Finn's lips.  
It nestles there and lingers.  
It builds up a camp and is starting to form its own government.  
It's _that_ long.

This is weird, he thinks. A very good kind of weird. How soft and fragile she is.  
How their fingers intertwine perfectly. How much they've wanted this in like forever.  
They pull apart with reluctance.  
"_That's_ how much I love you, stupid boy."

He smiles and kisses her forehead. She nestles her head briefly under his chin.  
The scent of this mortal, rare human is so exotic that the urge to go further drives her nuts.  
She calms down and pushes him gently away.  
Making a point never to breathe again. If possible.

"Well, time to be hot again. Before, you know, I'm reduced to a pile of ashes."  
Finn nods. "Yeah. We don't want you to stop being hot." He snickers.  
"Shut up."  
"No point in being quiet now."

The two turn towards the voice. "Jake? You're up, bro?"  
The dog raises an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. With the two of you yapping, how can a brother sleep?"  
There's a pause. Jake continues.  
"You two can continue now. I'm gonna go downstairs for sandwich."

The Flame Princess smiles at Finn. "Well,"  
_Whoosh_. It's hot again. The orange of the flame illuminates Finn's face.  
"I gotta go before my father looks for me."  
He nods. "I'll miss you."

She jumps through the window, gliding like a rocket and gently lands on the grass.  
"That's so cheesy. You know where I am, anyway." She says, smiling below him.  
He shrugs. "Can't stop me from missing you."  
The Flame Princess leaves Finn with a wink and a memory of a kiss that isn't nearly enough.

* * *

I'll write up the next one (PB and Marcie) soon. Holla for any suggestions / comments / criticisms in the reviews.

'til next time, readers!


	3. Pink Prologue

I'm so very sorry for the incredibly late update. I decided to make it up to you, my few dear readers, with a more fleshed out, detailed writing style. Hope it suits your taste buds, mah buds.

* * *

Silence travels across the meadows, sweeping everything in its wake into a deep, peaceful lull. A song with no melody or lyric. A gust of wind with no whistle or whoosh.

The creaky floorboards of the tree-house remain un-stepped. The mattress of the bed is heavy with life sleeping upon it. A curious evening, as not even the sound of gentle snoring can be heard from the boy nor the dog.

The clock hanging on the wall reads 2:50 AM.

Utter silence stretches itself miles across the momentarily dead-asleep land of Ooo. And yet, the silence misses one person.

Wide awake – this young woman.

...

This young woman with a questing gaze transfixed on the plans spread across her table, rubs a finger under her chin.

"Hm,"

After a few brows-furrowed moments, she hustles and bustles around her laboratory, maneuvering through the maze of tables that held her innumerable apparatuses. Half of which, purposeful. Half, not so much.

"Darn, gotta get this finished." She assures herself. Pushing.

She _must_ push through, of course. Before the sun wakes up. Before she misses her chance again.

Because this might be the gift that changes their relationship. That is, _if_ there's a relationship left to salvage.

...

This old man bent over the refrigerator, scratching his posterior, is bothered by the fact that something is telling him that he's _forgetting_ something.

Night after night, in this exact time and moment, he finds himself slouching over this woe-begone, barely functional fridge. It's original white, pearly sheen is now covered with yellow-cream colored stains mixed with age. Its humming – like a thousand bees dying of a slow and painful death.

After a pause, Hunson Abadeer slams it shut and groggily makes his way over to another room. A room where portraits of his family adorn the walls. His stare focuses on the picture of his daughter, smiling innocently.

His little _Marceline_–

Oh.

_Oh_.

...

Once more to this young woman, awake and dreadfully sleepy, yawning into her lab coat's sleeve. She sits on a lone stool, staring at a window and looking past through it. The sun's orange tint greets her with an undeniable warmth in its cheeriness.

It's finished, she thinks. Finally done. She can't help but smile weakly, yawning once more afterwards.

"Happy Birthday, Marcy." She speaks softly. Into the air, perhaps. So that it can carry it through the forest, and up towards the hills, and past the caves and the pits,

and finally, to the ears of that girl who could not – or, would not – escape Bubblegum's mind.

...

This pale immortal hovering over her bed, arms crossed and eyes firmly shut, is dreaming of blackness. An abyss filled with nothing. No faces, no sounds, no places and no colors that reflect her past life.

Because she is dead. She has been for nearly a thousand years.

And now, as she softly breathes in and out the remnants of her life, she is blissfully unaware

of the gentle whisper on her ear,

or the soft tug in her brain,

whisking her to realize

it's her birthday today.

...

This sunrise, with its spotless gleam and its blinding rays, promises to bring a wonderful, new day.

Well, maybe.

* * *

There we have it, the prologue to Marcy / PB's storyline. A calm before the storm, maybe.

If you spot any grammatical and/or typographical errors, let me know. I generally turn off the spell-check and grammar-check on my word processor. I don't trust them very muchly.

P.S: I'll probably combine the FP / Finn and PB / Marcy storylines. I'm lazy that way. Also, to the anonymous reviewer who said 'poems suck', you just made a fool out of yourself without any help. I congratulate you.


End file.
